


no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

by delixm



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Catholic school AU, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LaFontaine struggles with their gender and feelings for Perry, Other, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, but this is really fun to write sooooo, everyone struggles and suffers, i love to die, laura and carmilla struggle with their feelings, mattie will make an appearance in later chapters, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delixm/pseuds/delixm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla Catholic Boarding School AU. Carmilla is sent to boarding school after showing signs of corruption and wanderlust. Laura has been going to the school for years. LaFontaine struggles with their gender after being forced to wear skirts and being humiliated. Shit happens. Perry struggles with LaFontaine. Danny Lawrence and her boyfriend Kirsch and his best friends, Will and his twin brother JP get caught up in it, somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i want trees instead of gravestones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Carmilla was labeled as an unruly and satanic child and sent to Catholic school for correction.

Her legs dangled over the edge of the examination table. Her mother walked along the edges of the room, looking at the jars of cotton swabs and studying the diagram of a child split in half; his intestines highlighted and colored with pastel blues, purples and pinks, ominous sounding names of diseases in a cheery font listed next to his sickly body.

Carmilla swung her feet, bored. She looked around, scanning the walls of the doctors office for something to entertain her. Her eyes landed on a poster, depicting someone with bright socks and a blue circle with eyes requesting that anyone with diabetes to please take their shoes and socks off. Carmilla bit her lip, remembering what her mother had told her, years before.

 

"Hey, Mom?"

 

Her mom hummed questioningly in response.

 

"Isn't that what Oma died of?" She pointed to the poster, turning to her mom. 

 

"Hm? Oh, diabetes? No, Oma killed herself." she said casually, turning around again to inspect a 3D model of a brain. 

 

"Wow, look at this, Carmilla! This little thing is your ah-my-gdala. It's what processes our emotions. That's probably where God lives, too, then. Next to love." she said, too cheerily.

 

Carmilla didn't answer.

 

* * *

 

And that's how Carmilla found out that her grandma committed suicide. 

 

Imitating her mother, she took a laid-back attitude concerning it. She didn't think about how much her Oma had loved her, and she definitely didn't blame herself for not being for her more. She didn't cry herself to sleep about it even years later, either. As time went by, Carmilla just ignored it. She tucked it away in a corner of her mind, so she would never have to think about it again.

 

And it would've worked. If everyone else wasn't so damn nosy.

 

"Carmilla, wow, you look just like your Oma! She was a lovely lady. I heard she passed recently, I'm so sorry! But at least we have you, her spitting image, huh?" And then they would laugh and clap Carmilla on the back, unaware of the stab wounds they'd reopened. 

And it's not like Carmilla didn't realize they were right. She knew she was a lot like Oma; that's why they were so close. And that's why it felt like a knife in her stomach every time someone compared them.

 

_Do you even know?_

_She's in Hell._

_You talk about her like she's an angel in heaven, but she's a sinner, she's a sinner._

_And I shouldn't love her, and you definitely shouldn't be talking about her like this._

But Carmilla didn't voice these thoughts. She would just give a tight smile, excuse herself, and go to her room to stare at the picture she'd snagged of her grandmother; before the rest of her family burned all the other pictures of her.

She is no longer a part of this family.

She is in Hell.

She disrespected God.

She did this to herself.

Nobody outside of this family is to know.

 

So the Karnstein family continued to go to church, and always donated when the basket came around their pew. They even looked the other way when the head priest mysteriously disappeared after some scandal with one of the little Karnstein boys. And nobody ever talked about Oma. 

 

At first, Carmilla begged God to forgive Oma. She gave up after a few months, after one of the priests asked what she was praying for during Mass one day. She stuttered and flushed, unable to make up an excuse, quickly trying to empty her mind of the thoughts of Oma, as if  the head priest's piercing eyes could see what she was thinking. When she got home, her mother drilled her about what she was actually praying about. And, thinking she would get sympathy, she told her the truth. And she got slapped and sent to her room. 

 

So Carmilla didn't talk, think or pray about Oma anymore. She fought to keep her face straight and her mind empty when someone mentioned her. But, sometimes it wasn't bad that people talked about her grandmother so often when Carmilla was around. Sometimes she learned interesting things about Oma and stored them deep in her subconscious. Sometimes she could unravel some of the mystery behind her suicide. But only one exchange stood out in her mind. One exchange that she couldn't push to the back of her head.

 

Coincidentally, it was her grandfather: completely shitfaced, spouting and spluttering prophecies of the apocalypse; Jesus completely naked, thrusting and impregnating every single woman in sight, implanting seeds of godliness in the basins of their bodies; disco dancers ecstatically climbing out of the mundane rut of their daily lives, brought to life again by our mighty Lord's power. Sinners cowered and were ran off the edge of the world, and the Chosen Ones were brought onto a UFO with the Fountain of Youth as a centerpiece and dancefloor. Couples, old and young, danced in the Fountain with a long lost sense of freedom, and children chased each other around while their parents waltzed madly and fucked with a primal hurriedness. Fire would rain down on the empty Earth, the few sinners left dying in a blaze of glory. Up above in the heavens, the Chosen Ones drank champagne from glasses of pure diamond until all they could see, hear, taste and smell was the smooth, twangy voices of Johnny Mercer and Blondie and the warm light of the fireballs raging down outside the windows. And we would arrive in the Promised Land, and meet again our lost ones, forever to frolic and fuck in fields of joy and holiness. Lambs with eyes as blue as a forget-me-not would frolic and angels would fill the air with their silvery songs, bathing reunited lovers revelling in their rosy flesh in a glorious golden light. Amen. 

 

Now, it was not the first time Carmilla heard this story. He told it every time he got drunk, slurring it worse and worse with each telling. But after this time, he wiped away a tear and said,

 

"Now if only Romilde hadn't been a coward bitch, she could've enjoyed the Promised Land, and seen Winfield again," and then he burst out laughing and spluttered, coughed and took another swig of beer.

 

Carmilla sat there, her mouth hanging open. That, she had definitely never heard before. Curiosity overwhelming her fear of being beat, Carmilla seeked out the drunkest person at the gathering, looking to prod for information. It turned out to be one of her too-touchy great uncles. 

 

"Henrik, who was Winfield?" she asked quickly, putting on the most innocent face an eleven year old could manage. Immediately, Henrik pulled her close, whiskey on his breath. 

 

"Well,  _mein Schatzi_ , Winfield was one of your uncles! Great lad. Youngest of the bunch. He drowned. Right in front of your Oma, too!" He laughed. "No wonder everyone hates her, huh,  _Maus_?" he laughed again, the alcohol on his breath making her want to vomit. Carmilla forced a laugh and wriggled out of his entirely too-tight embrace, running over to her cousins, numbing herself by scurrying madly around the house, drunk off of rebellion. That night, once everyone passed out and her room was full of sweaty little children sleeping noisily, Carmilla sneaked out of her window, climbing on to the roof. She looked at the stars, and realizing that her Oma wasn't amongst them, she started to cry.

 

 

* * *

 

But that was years ago. After that night, Carmilla never heard another word about her grandmother, mostly because her mom stopped going to those family gatherings and started working more. Started working a lot, actually. Most of the time, she was home alone. Well, she had a nanny. But she spent all day watching TV. So Carmilla grew up, restless and alone, entire summers spent exploring the lake and the woods behind her house. She named herself the guardian of their lake and the woods surrounding it:  the Stormdrawn Wilds. She painted tribal tattoos along her arms and legs, symbols for courage and peace and faith. She sharpened a rock and fashioned a spear; she even used an old dinghy to cross the lake, giving a good-bye speech to the painted rocks and small woodland animals that were her followers. She stored food, water and empty glass jars in a small backpack and took off, imagining herself the mighty captain of the grand ship Arrownax, sailing off to discover worlds unknown. She ran through the new woods, whooping and yelling. She jumped over fallen trees and climbed rocks; she thrashed through underbrush gleefully and collected sand, flowers, beetles, branches, fireflies. She climbed the tiny cliff next the the cove and when she reached the top, she gave a triumphant yell, her cheers echoing to the edges of her world as she jumped into the deep waters below. When she returned home that evening, the heat of the now-set sun still kissing her back, her hair still wet, she was merry with adventure and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She slept soundly for the first time in a long time after that. 

 

But soon, she grew older, old enough to tell herself that she was above such childish things.

 

(She would not admit that she actually stopped because once, her mother came home early and saw the dirt on her face and slapped it clean off.)

 

Instead, during those hazy summers, she climbed the rooftops at night and drew and studied maps during the day. She would journal the growth of the hen harrier chicks in the nest next to one of the chimneys. She drew diagrams of birds' wings, and daydreamed of going back to the Stormdrawn Wilds, flying over the lake and reclaiming the lost youth of her expeditions, flapping her wooden wings and soaring through the sky.

But at night, when the chicks were asleep and their mother softly preened, used to Carmilla's presence, she would try to talk to God. 

At first, she would ask questions. 

What was Heaven like? Were there dogs in Heaven? What's worse, murder, or the homosexuals?

She received no answer. 

So she just started talking. She talked about things she did when she was free to explore the Stormdrawn Wilds. She talked about how she wished she could go back out, just once more, to map the woods out. She then talked herself into and out of sneaking out of the house one day to do so, many times. She talked about how she missed her cousins. She asked why her mother worked so much, but she got no answer for that either. She did not talk about her grandmother, and she could feel God's approval in the sunlight and the breeze as the thoughts of Oma drifted away, until she never thought of her at all. Carmilla made sure to not think about those kinds of things.

 

But still, she longed for the riotous days spent swimming in the lake and romping ecstatically through the unruly Wilds. In an attempt to appease her own wanderlust and earn God's approval, Carmilla decided to walk a mile to the nearest bookstore and buy an adventure book. She thought it was a nice compromise: Carmilla stayed inside, close to God, but she didn't feel the feral calls of the wild beckoning her out. So she picked out the first adventure book she saw: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. She giddily skipped home, and got a third of the way into it before her mother came home. When she saw the book, she yanked it from Carmilla's grasp and threw it into the fire, before grabbing Carmilla roughly and slapping her, demanding where she got it from and telling her that God didn't let stinking, unruly barbarians into Heaven. Carmilla cried herself to sleep for a week after that, begging for God's forgiveness and pressing blades to her skin when he didn't answer, opening her veins as an offering to His Majesty, as an apology for her rambunctious, impulsive forays into the forest. The book incident pushed her mother to start formal catechesis, and from then on Carmilla spent all of her day under the watchful eye of priests and nuns. She had sermons all day, priests describing in gory detail the inhuman acts of sodomy that the homosexuals revered and the satanic spawns of the whores who fell for the Devil's trap of premarital sex. Crack addicts raped their mothers and aborted the innocent babies; gamblers bet on who's soul would be taken by the Devil first. They spoke of barbarian, filthy beggars living in the dirt of forests, rolling in animal feces and having sex with bears. 

 

But Carmilla couldn't help it: she was a teenage girl who lived in the middle of nowhere, with a drunkard nanny passed out on the couch and her mother working every day, in and out. She was lonely, and the TV didn't satisfy the primal urges inside of her. She felt restless, itching to take a dip in the lake. She zoned out during catechesis. She dreamed. She dreamed of another universe, where she could take off in a hot-air balloon and discover the world. She dreamed of the wild. She dreamed of the unknown. But teenage Catholic girls from small towns weren't mean to dream like that. So Carmilla went to Confession every week, subtly trying to get advice without letting the truth slip out. 

 

One day, arriving home from catechesis, Carmilla's mother sat on the pristine white leather couch, next to the head priest of their church. Her face was flat, but Carmilla could see the anger and disgust in her eyes. Her stomach dropped. She shrugged off her backpack and kicked off her shoes as the priest stood up, forcing a smile.

 

"Carmilla, good to see you. How is catechesis going?" His head tilted slightly, like he was talking to a dog, his eyes challenging.

 

"Excellent, Father. I'm lucky to belong to such a great church." Carmilla lowered her eyes, not making eye contact. 

 

The priest smiled, the challenge in his eyes softening to pleasure. 

 

"Good girl." he rubbed her shoulder, inviting her to sit down. Her mother had not yet spoken, but her eyes were still shooting daggers at Carmilla. The priest sat down next to her mother again, looking at Carmilla.

 

"Mrs. Karnstein, would you like to say anything, or should I break the news?" he asked, smiling thinly. Mrs. Karnstein shook her head. 

 

"Right, then," he clapped. "Carmilla, my priests have told me that you're exhibiting symptoms of doubt in our Lord, and as someone who's seen you in church since you were little, it worried me. And I was sure it would worry your mother, as well." he gestured to her mother.

 

"So I came by today and told her, and she told me some things about your behavior at home that I find even more troubling. You're such a good girl, we wouldn't want to see you be defiled." his eyes darkened, and he smiled a little. 

Carmilla's stomach dropped lower, her face paling. 

 

  
_Please,_  she begged.

_Please, don't make me move in with him like Johnny did_

 

"So your mother and I have decided that it would be best for you to go to an all-girls, Catholic boarding school," he said happily, clapping again. Carmilla's mother wouldn't make eye contact with her. Carmilla hadn't expected this. She saw the priests elated face again, and her mother's plastered on smile.

 

  
_Shit,_  she thought.

_motherfucking shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:   
> Mein Schatzi: my darling  
> Maus: mouse, pet name
> 
> Bit of backstory for Carmilla! Chapter one of many...


	2. i build bridges with these arms, i will not build a fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla settles into her new... home

A few things Carmilla found out on her first day:

1\. The Headmaster wasn't to get there until a day before school started.

2\. The lighthouse had been completely refurbished, to be used for special parties with said Headmaster and his 'guests'.

3\. Security was worse than ever, because:

4\. One of the deputy heads had lost their key set, and

5\. The few cameras the school had installed weren't actually hooked up.

6\. None of the students were to know anything.

 

That was the second time ever Carmilla had thanked the Lord for her tendency of hearing things she shouldn't have. She had just spent four hours pretending to read one of her textbooks to get the ragtag nanny team of nuns and priests off of her back. They finally slipped out of the common room Carmilla was in when the bells rang twelve, flashing her a warm smile. She returned it, trying to look as deeply interested as she could in the theory of creationism. Once she heard their footsteps disappear down the hallway, she put the book down, taking off her shoes. She ran out of the room, giggling and slipping on the shiny linoleum floor, and slid down the hall, the opposite way the teachers had gone. She pranced around, pretending to be an ice skater, twirling and jumping, landing silently. She stayed in a hallway near the common room she was in, with floor-to-ceiling antique windows facing out to one of the courtyards, the one with industrial-looking catwalks criss-crossing it, labeled 'FOR STAFF USE ONLY' in bold letters on yellow tape. She wondered how difficult it would be to get up to them and take the tape down. She walked down the hall, looking for where the catwalks connected to. She froze as she heard voices, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet to take off. But the voices weren't moving, and they seemed muffled. She tiptoed closer to the corner where offices and conference rooms were. The voices got clearer. Carmilla pinpointed them to one of the ancient classrooms. She held her breath and put her ear up to the door, her muscles tense.

 

Carmilla would like to say that she didn't enjoy eavesdropping, but that wasn't true. But it's not like she didn't know it was wrong. Her mother came to mind, drunk as all hell, tears shining in her clouded eyes, saying that eavesdroppers and thieves were fated to become the whores and slaves of the Devil. Carmilla was eleven or twelve then, and she still loved her mother. She had given her a glass of water and a blanket, turning off the lights and wishing her a good night. Much later, when the world had fallen into a deep sleep, as she tried to block out the sound of her mother crying, Carmilla looked at the stars through her window.

 

_fate's a bitch, but destiny is yours_

 

Those words bounced around in her head for a week after that night. And as she made her way back to the common room as she heard the teachers wrap up their meeting, she chanted them to herself, her lips shaping around them, leaving them to escape from her mouth and cloud her life like smoke.

 

On the next morning, when the nuns left her to her own devices after breakfast, Carmilla waited casually by the one of the kitchen doors, slipping in once the cook shambled off for a quick piss and a fag. She nicked an apple, taking a bite of it as she eyed an old-looking trapdoor. Probably the entrance to a cellar. The apple in her hand tasted sweet: like champagne and lawlessness. She swaggered off with a smirk, heading upstairs.

The carpet was plush on the second floor; it was the dormitories floor. Another flight up, the furniture got more antique and priceless-looking, and showy chandeliers hung eerily from the high ceiling. The third floor was offices and the Headmaster's quarters. It made Carmilla sick to her stomach. Stairs continued upwards behind a locked door, but access to whatever the fourth floor was also restricted by a heavy metal trapdoor that was chained shut. Carmilla inspected the chains through the dirty window in the door, deciding that they would require a key. She turned around, trooping on, moving as quickly and quietly as she could down the corridor, glancing out of windows to figure out where the doors to the catwalks were.

 

It was an extremely heavy wooden door. With a functioning lock, Carmilla was surprised to find out. She took out her lockpicking kit and tried to recollect what she had learned from the books she'd read in the library before she'd stopped going out. It took her ten minutes and much jaw clenching to unlock it and push it open, but she managed. It was the first few days of September, but the sea salt tinged chill still surprised Carmilla. Goosebumps sang on her pale skin and her ears perked at the sounds of distant seagulls and crashing waves. A laugh escaped her, and the wind played with her hair, whipping it into her face. She traipsed over to the bright yellow tape that stuck to the metal rail and tore it down, stuffing it into her messenger bag, next to her lockpicks. Turning around, she noticed the walkway continuing, hugging the wall. A ladder was fixed to the brick and the walkway, and led up to a flat-ish part of the sloped roof. A wicked smile crossed Carmilla's face. Making her way over to it, she glanced down at the windows, checking to see if anyone was walking past. But, it seemed, that at seven-forty in the morning not many people were up and about, even nuns and priests. She scrambled up the cold rungs and crawled onto the roof. The black slate was somehow warm against her bare knees and hands: she recalled roaming the Wilds with only the butterflies in her stomach and the courage of the sun on her back keeping her going. She kneeled, taking a look around the roof. Bird shit littered a few areas in particular, but other than that, the roof was clean. A few nests were in the final stages of construction against the chimneys, but there were no birds in sight. Carmilla stood up, still keeping low. The flat area the ladder led to was nice, but a bit exposed for her taste. She picked her way across the roof slowly, watching out for loose tiles.

 

She found an odd little pigeonhole-recess type thing on the roof of the wing that faced the lighthouse. It was large, big enough for maybe four people to sit in comfortably, and it seemed like it was where some huge chimney once was before it was removed and cemented up. You could see the lantern room of the lighthouse from it, and Carmilla felt a pang of wistfulness at the image of being nestled in the little nook, watching the lighthouse tirelessly warning vulnerabilities out at sea. The beacon of light called to ships, enticing and threatening. Here I am, and here be danger, it called out, like the beautiful, mesmerizing colors of poisonous animals. Carmilla felt the cold loneliness clench at her heart.

Here I am, and here be danger.

 

Carmilla actually found it hilarious. She had just spent two hours, sneaking onto the roof and hanging out in a niche she'd found, zoning out while staring at the lighthouse, and she was just relaxing, sipping some hot cocoa she'd charmed the cook into giving her, studying some paintings. The nun had come up from behind her, and Carmilla stumbled her curse into some bastardization of the German word for genealogical research. From the look on her face, Carmilla thought that she had been caught somehow on the roof, and she panicked quietly in her head, backtracking and trying in vain to remember if she had seen anyone. But nobody had seen her, she was just in trouble anyways. For not praying. As in. The nuns had met up for their 9 o'clock water jazz class, or something, and none of them had seen Carmilla in the chapel, so naturally they started a manhunt for Carmilla to punish her for abandoning God. Carmilla found it hilarious, really. Something she liked less: waiting an hour in the Headmaster's office for her sentencing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay chapter 2! at first i didn't like how this was going, but i think i like it now. it's very in character, i think... anyway, i'll probably post a new chapter tomorrow. cheers! 
> 
> ps. sorry it took so long!!


	3. i got a soft spot for your ancient books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla learns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SELF HARM

"No doubt you know why you're here?"

 

"I think Sister Cathy gave me a pretty good rundown. She didn't, however, enjoy my asking if she was a Cathy-lic. I don't think she has a very good sense of humor. Is that a thing for you guys? Does the Man upstairs not accept comedians?"

Carmilla tried to keep the bite out of her voice. She usually only made jokes when she was nervous, but now she was just pissed.

 

"Funny, but I'm not a nun. And I'd recommend you take this seriously. This academy is for good Catholic girls. We rarely take one of your," she quieted her voice a bit and leaned in. "demeanor."

Carmilla gave her an unapologetic smile.

 

"Unlike your old home, you'll find that here undesirable actions have consequences. Punishments are fair but firm, and we try our hardest to keep our girls off the Devil's path. Obviously your escorts yesterday didn't do a very good job at going through the rules, so I will explain them to you very clearly."

 

Carmilla sat back in her chair, steadily keeping the older woman's gaze. She was one of the deputy heads, she thought. Maybe the one that lost their key set. She definitely seemed the type. Her rigid demeanor was sort of uprooted by her crazed face. Her eyes were tired and watery, giving off a weak challenging vibe. Her hair was dry and graying, frizzy and barely contained in the droopy bun on the back of her head. Her posture told of a strict childhood and a disastrous personal life, but her voice was no-nonsense. A small part of Carmilla wanted to be nice and polite and give the poor woman a break, but it was also the part that missed her mother, so Carmilla ignored it. Mostly, she was pissed. A punishment for being on the roof, yeah. Of course, she would take that without a fight. But for not praying? Really? She wondered how bad the consequences would be, but she wasn't scared. The Headmaster wasn't at the school, and they wouldn't tell him anything unless Carmilla rose Hell sometime closer to when he would arrive. She clenched her jaw, still staring into the deputy's eyes.

 

"Above all else, you will be a good Catholic girl. You will pray every day, and once school starts, you will attend the attend the obligatory daily gatherings, whether they be Mass, readings or sermons. Halloween is not celebrated, and any propaganda or paraphernalia will be confiscated. Alcohol and drugs are not permitted or tolerated, under any circumstance. Being in possession of any can constitute an automatic expulsion at the discretion of the Headmaster. Over-the-counter and prescription included. We are a strictly Catholic academy, and any and all medication will be replaced with faith healing.

"Every Saturday there are buses that can take students to the town nearby. If a student acts up, that time will be reallotted to detention. Everyone must be back by six o'clock. Students will tell their tutor where they are going, and we send out staff to be in town, and they can and will perform random check ups. If you are not where you said you would be, and or went somewhere else without telling the staff, it means an automatic suspension from the outings for the rest of the year, and grounds for expulsion. At the discretion of the Headmaster, of course. Bedtime is promptly at 9 o'clock, anyone caught out of bed after then without a staff member will face harsh consequences. Sneaking out in any form is not tolerated, and said sneaks will be punished at the discretion of staff. Any evidence of pre-marital sex or sexual acts is grounds for expulsion. Pornographic material and or homosexual propaganda is strictly forbidden. Anyone caught or suspected to be in homosexual relations, even outside of school, will go through therapies, and if they continue to behave in that fashion, can be expelled at the discretion-"

 

"Of the Headmaster? Starting to get the feeling he's in charge around here. It's almost like he's the Headmaster."

Carmilla regretted the words as they came out, and she dropped her gaze. Disrespecting the Headmaster was a line she wouldn't cross. The deputy delighted in Carmilla's small moment of submissivity.

 

"Respect is a priority. Any backtalk is punishable. Out-of-control students can be sent to isolation, on the third floor. You will respond to questions with, 'Yes, Ma'am or Sir,' or 'No, Ma'am or Sir,'. Do you understand?"

Carmilla fought the urge to say 'Yes Ma'am or Sir,'.

 

"Yes, Ma'am." She didn't see a reason to make this a living hell for herself. Isolation on the third floor. She'd known that all too well.

 

"Good. Your priest gave us a description of your past behavior, and I'd like you to know that we are fully committed to bringing you back and keeping you on God's path. But you have to be willing to be saved. Jesus loves you, but you are rejecting His love. Yours is a good Christian family, full of good hearts. Your grandmother was one of the black sheep. Do you want to end up like her?"

Carmilla bristled, but there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head at the floor.

 

"You have five more days until school starts. The Karnstein's are a grand family. You being one is the only reason you've been allowed to be here early. Don't get yourself expelled before anything even starts. Your family would be ashamed of this behavior if I told them, but I won't. Do you know why?"

Her voice was lulling Carmilla into a trance. She shook her head again.

 

"Because I believe in second chances, Carmilla." she smiled. "We can save you, Carmilla. But you have to let us."

 

* * *

 

 

Carmilla followed Deputy Anne's advice. She prayed every day, begging for forgiveness for her straying on the first day. She blushed whenever she thought of her discrepancy. When she wasn't praying, she did crafts with some of the nuns, and stole an X-Acto knife when the nuns weren't paying attention. At night, she would stay up and sit on her windowsill, staring out at the lighthouse.

She would roll up her sleeve and drag the blade across her biceps, offering up her blood and tears as payment for her sins. If it worked, she couldn't tell. So she kept doing it, night after night. She'd fall asleep with her upper biceps cut to ribbons, makeshift toilet paper bandages sometimes wrapped around them when she cut too deep. Carmilla cut herself three times for every time she thought of sneaking out, or of Oma. Then she would cut herself three times more for good measure.By the time the Headmaster arrived at the school, the blade was dull and barely cut anymore. She threw it out of her window and instead, had tea with the Headmaster to hurt herself. It was even better than the cutting.

But every day, every night, she still had the thoughts. Her heart still skipped a beat as she thought of going up on the roof again. Every time the Headmaster put his hand on her tight-clad thigh she longed to set fire to the old castle and watch it burn, burn down to the ground. She still fell asleep clutching at her own chest, trying to keep the pieces of her together. She regretted throwing her knife out of the window, because there was only one other one and the nuns would notice if it went missing.

Her veins sang to her, pleaded and whispered and infiltrated her mind with their filthy thoughts. They told her to slice them open, to repent. To let the sin wash out of her body until she was filled with nothing but brilliant light. She lay in bed and dug her bitten-down nails into her skin, willing them to cut through and rid her of the monstrosities inside of her.

The Headmaster had arrived a day early. So Carmilla had the joy of having tea with him five times. He had touched her 34 times in those five sessions. She couldn't help but keep track. She wondered if this was how it started with Johnny. She numbed herself to his touch and smiled back emptily when he smiled at her. She told herself that she deserved it when his hand travelled a bit too far up her thigh for comfort. She just kept smiling. On her last night sleeping alone in the dorm room, she felt excited. She felt crazy. She almost couldn't fall asleep. Her chest was about to burst with the anticipation, and she had never missed her knife more than then. She felt too much. Eventually, she fell asleep when the bells struck two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huzzah! chapter three at your service... school's starting tomorrow, so i'll probably post something then. god bless procrastination.


	4. put your hand down boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy has it been a long time since i updated. sorry this chapter's a bit iffy. i'll have a new chapter up by sunday. cheeeeers.
> 
> Also: Laura's fam comes from southern US in this. Important note for her voice. (don't ask me why it just seemed right.)

It was her stomach rumbling that woke her up. It was nearing noon, and it was the first day nobody had woken Carmilla up for breakfast. She slinked out of bed and padded downstairs, too tired to put on shoes.

Rubbing her eyes, she rounded a corner, not aware of the fact that her tank top had ridden up, exposing scarred ribs and a toned stomach. She began to yawn-

 

"M'therfuck'n," she growled, clutching her jaw, taking a blind step back. A girl with honey-brown hair stood at the corner, rubbing the back of her head. Carmilla squinted at her.

"n'who?" she slipped out. The girl looked bewildered. She cleared her throat.

"Hello," she tested, trying to ignore Carmilla's clothing situation and stomach. She was dressed in sweatpants and a dark flannel shirt, one of her dad's old ones. Carmilla looked her up and down, and then turned and sneezed.

"You're... um, did you need help?" she sniffled, running a hand through her hair. The girls presence was making her flustered after spending a week avoiding adults and alone. She looked at her feet, damning her mismatched socks. One was bright blue with green dots on it and the other was gold and maroon striped. She jumped at the sight of her stomach and hastily pulled her shirt down, muttering under her breath and going red.

"Oh! Well, I've been going here for years now, but they made some renovations over the summer and I can't quite find my dorm." Carmilla could hear the smile in the girl's voice and blushed deeper. She looked up into her eyes, finding flecks of gold. She smiled a little, then processed what she had said.

"Er, what wing?" "Southmoore. That's kinda where all of the student dorms are." Carmilla, resisting the urge to jump down the stairs, cleared her throat and tried to look composed.

"Yes, right, yeah. I'm in Kit hall, is that the new one?" the girl smiled.

"Yeah." Carmilla stared at her for a second, slowly adjusting to another teenagers presence. After a moment, the girl sniffled and readjusted her backpack. Carmilla blinked.

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah, let me walk you."

 _smooth, Carmilla,_ She blushed again, and gestured for the girl to start walking with her.

"So, what's your name?" she asked, after a while.

"Laura. Laura Hollis."

Laura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, Laura, what grade are you in?" Laura laughed. Carmilla looked at her.

"Sorry, it's just weird." she laughed again, and shook her head . "We don't really get new people around here. Grades are called forms here. I'm in third form. Eleventh grade," she clarified. "You?"

"Er, third form as well, I guess."

"Oh, awesome! We'll be seeing each other a lot then. Forms sleep in the same hallway, and have classes together. We all have lunch together, but we spend downtime in our own common room. The lower forms, seventh and eighth grade for you, have to share a common room, but the uppers, ninth through twelfth, get their own. My sister's starting L2 this year. Lower two. Eighth grade." She smiled at Carmilla's dazed expression. They had reached Kit hall, and now Laura was stopped at a dorm, a few rooms down from Carmilla's. She opened the door, wincing a bit at the smell of paint. Carmilla stood awkwardly in the doorway before Laura started talking again.

"So your dorm is in this hall too, right? Hope it's close. Have they told you who you're rooming with? I think I'm rooming with Danny, Perry and Susan. Well, if Perry's influence goes as far as we think it does. Wow, I never asked. What's your name?" Laura was speedily placing picture frames, books, candles, a drawing pad, and a corkboard in random places around the room. She turned to look at Carmilla.

"Um, Carmilla. Karnstein." Laura gaped.

"Woah, like, Karnstein Karnstein? Danny knew a Karnstein. Said she walked like she had thumbtacks in her shoes and always looked 'bout ready to slap someone for looking at her." She blushed, hurriedly backtracking, tripping over her words.

"I mean, no offense, of course, Carmilla, she's probably great, one of your cousins or something, jeez why did I say that, listen, don't mind me, I'll just keep unpac-"

"Hey, hey, cupcake, it's fine, really. This Danny has the right idea." Carmilla smiled.

"No, I'm sure that's not true. The Karnsteins are known across Austria."

"Since when were well-known families ever good? You won't ever know me to be proud of my last name." Carmilla cursed her honesty. Who was it that said the key to being happy was risking being open and vulnerable? Load of bollocks. She put a fake smile back on her face. Laura squinted, leaning over her suitcase.

"What's wrong?" Carmilla's brow furrowed, opening her mouth to start shutting this strange girl out.

"I can see a fake smile from miles away, Carmilla Karnstein. Trying to keep secrets isn't gonna do you any good, not with me." Carmilla flushed. She didn't know why.

"...Alright."

Laura gave a grin.


	5. welcome to my zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla's a bad influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah hell fucking yeah 
> 
> chapter title from toes by glass animals

 

It was weird, having someone else around. Carmilla had excused herself to her own room, where she changed, still not into her uniform, but into something more presentable. She sat on her bed, pretending to read as she wondered what she was supposed to do. She didn't know where Laura had gone off to. 

The roof flashed through her mind.

 

Jumping to her feet, she hopped around her room, taking off her socks and then set off down the hall, listening intently for anyone. The floor was strangely quiet, like she was the only person in the entire castle.  

_Probably preparing for students..._

She smiled and took off running, the carpet muffling her light step.

She'd reached the stairs when she heard floorboards creak. She turned sharply, putting on her most innocent face and trying to relax her tense muscles. It was Laura, leaning against the wall, watching Carmilla curiously.

 

"Headmaster's downstairs. They just started their Checks. You're looking for him, right?"

Carmilla smiled stupidly.

 

"Thank God. No, I wasn't looking for him." 

Laura's eyebrows furrowed.

  

"What's upstairs, then?"

Carmilla bit her lip, trying to decide if she could trust Laura. The last time she'd trusted someone with a secret- 

 

"You know the catwalks above the Sanctuary courtyard?" 

Laura nodded, her eyes unreadable. Carmilla took a breath, distracted by the golden flecks in the girl's eyes.

 

 "I, uh, go up there when I'm," she took another breath, "bored, or something."

Laura's jaw dropped, and her eyebrows raised in surprise.

  

"Are you serious? How often? Why would you tell me? They could kick you out!" She sounded legitimately anxious, and her crazed expression made Carmilla want to smile.

  

"I thought I could trust you. Was I wrong?" Carmilla's voice was steady, despite her hands shaking in her pockets.

 There was silence, the kind of silence that you can feel pressing against your skin, suffocating you. Carmilla looked into Laura's gentle eyes.

  

"...No."

 

Carmilla let out a breath and grinned.

 

"Alright." She gave Laura a salute and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She was walking in the direction of the catwalks when she heard someone behind her.

 

"Is there any use pretending that I'm here because I'm trying to stop you?"

Carmilla laughed, for real.

 

"Nope. You're smart, cupcake. Why  _are_  you following me, though?" She slowed down.

 

"Life boring?" Carmilla turned, her face suddenly inches away from Laura's. She smirked at Laura's intake of breath.

 

"You want some excitement?" her voice was breathy, her stomach clenched. Laura's eyes darkened and she swallowed before taking a step back.

 

"Er," she tried to start. She blinked. "We could get caught." Even as she said it, there was not a trace of conviction in her words. Carmilla licked her lips, dazed. Somehow she answered.

 

"That's the exciting part, sweetheart." 

 The words spilled out of her mouth, smoldering.  She smiled.

 

"You're already a bad influence,"

 Laura rolled her eyes and shoved Carmilla playfully, snapping her out of the haze that Laura's proximity put her in. 

 

"Come on then, we haven't got all day." Carmilla stared at her, dumbfounded.

 

"When- How long is this meeting?"

 

"It's not really a meeting, it's Checks. They have one every year. They're just going through everything that's happening this year, what they're going to do for holidays, stuff like that. It's usually one or two hours." Laura smirked. "Probably going to be three or four this year with Mrs. Brimsey."

 

"Oh, Jesus."

 

"Yeah, she even sounds bad, right? She's our English teacher, and this year the head of teachers. Huge racist. Terrible teacher. But apparently she had a hand in building the Karnstein business empire, so they're keeping her around as long as they can. She's turning, like, 70 this year. You can give her a sentence and she'd find a million things wrong with it."

 They walk in silence for a while, Carmilla trying to figure this girl out.

 

"They're probably talking about you."

 

"W-what?" Carmilla was caught off guard and spoke a little too loudly, her voice echoing down the empty hallway.

 

"They're probably talking about you. You're the first Karnstein they've had in over ten years. Danny only met one because she went to one of her dad's venture banquets."

 

"Lawrence?" A smile played on Carmilla's lips.

 

"Yeah! You know any? Danny's dad is Geoffrey Lawrence."

 

"I've never met one, but I'm hard wired to hate them with a burning passion." Laura laughed.

 

"Your families do business all the time!" 

 

"Well, yeah, my family wants what they have. Acres upon acres of land. My grandfather wants to get into construction and obviously he thinks the Lawrence estate is the absolute quintessence of profitable land." Laura looked out the window.

 

"Don't you think it might just be bitterness?"

 Carmilla stopped, taken aback. Laura looked back at her, her eyes far away.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Karnstein and Lawrence have a lot of history. Rumor has it that Blaid Lawrence was supposed to marry William Karnstein, but she ran off with Douglas Lawrence."

Carmilla looked at the door.

 

"Maybe he's doing it out of sadness," Laura said, softly.

Carmilla scoffed.

 

"Yeah? Well, fuck him anyway." 

She pushed the door open.

 


	6. taking this moment to live in the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah, big mistake

 

"That's- why would you say that about your grandfather?" She spoke a little louder than she needed to, holding tight to the railing. 

"Scared of heights, sweetheart?" Carmilla looked back at the smaller girl, who shot her head up indignantly.

"Laura."

"Laura." Carmilla shook her head, smiling, and moved to the side of the ladder.

"Scared of heights, _Laura_?" Laura looked up at the ladder and blew out a puff of air, moving strands of hair that had fallen in her face.

"...No."

 

She started climbing.

 

* * *

 

Well, she hadn't expected this. Maybe a, 'wow, Carmilla, this is great!', or a telling off for doing something so _against the rules_ , but she hadn't expected... this. 

Laura's been silent since they reached the rooftop.  
A heavy silence. The kind of silence before a secret is revealed. The kind of silence that binds people together.  
Carmilla wouldn't be the one to break it.

She tugged on Laura's sleeve softly, wanting to show her the hideout. She had let go and started to turn towards the lighthouse when she felt a warm hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.  
Her pulse thrummed.  
She didn't turn around.  
She tightened her fingers and started towards her sanctuary.

* * *

"I've been going to this school for five years." Laura was sitting now, a few inches away from where Carmilla was, against the wall. She didn't say anything.

"I've spent five years, a little bit more than a quarter of my life here, and I've known you for an hour and you've shown me something I'd never even..." she looked at Carmilla.

"I've helped maintenance clean that lighthouse a hundred times, but I never wondered how it would look like from a different perspective."

The sun's bright, and the water shimmers. Carmilla aches to reach out and touch Laura.  
(She doesn't.)  
(But Laura does.)

She reaches over and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, while Carmilla holds her breath. She pulls pack slowly, her face unreadable.

"I've never met anyone like you." Carmilla's heart thunders in her chest. Struggling to escape, and to bleed out instead of feeling this. She swallows.

"I've never met anyone like you either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> I know it's been like eons since I last updated but I'm feeling inspired so I'm posting this and going off to write another which will prob be up tomorrow, or later today. 
> 
> and yes, i am aware that I change tenses in the last bit, it just felt right for that scene to be present tense. Comment if it's too off-putting so I can avoid it in the future!  
> also if you're having trouble visualizing their hideout (which will soon be known as sanctuary for code :P) just imagine this without the window: SORRY FOR THIS ABHORRENT LINK http://dpmleadworkroofing.co.uk/cs/Satellite?blobcol=urlimagefile&blobheader=image%2Fjpeg&blobheadername1=Content-Disposition&blobheadervalue1=inline%3B+filename%3D06_Gallery_29_image-0.jpg&blobkey=id&blobtable=UXImage&blobwhere=1371276416667&ssbinary=true&moddate=2014-12-29%2001:57:26


	7. i make a few steps and i fall on the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MISGENDERING/DEADNAME USAGE
> 
> aghhhghghhhdsufhsiukhwjnd misgendering LaF hurts my soul  
> but otherwise  
> enjoy chapter 7!

"Hollis! Hey! Crushes-on-vampires!" Carmilla and Laura had come down the stairs, quietly, only a few moments before they heard the shouts from down the hall. A tall redhead poked her head out of Laura's dorm, followed by a shorter redhead with curly hair and a crazed look on her face. Laura's face lit up. She turned to Carmilla.

 

 

"Oh, my gosh! Carmilla, come on, you have to meet them, they're awesome, Susan's gonna love you," she turned suddenly to the two girls, who had ducked back into the room. 

 

"Danny! Perry! Where's Susan?" Carmilla felt her chest seize up, and muttered an excuse about going back to her dorm to shower. Laura looked at her, confused, but waved her off with a promise about seeing her at lunch.

Carmilla bit her lip and walked back to her room, breathing fast.

* * *

"Jeez, Laura, it's like you've gotten even shorter. Next year I'm gonna have to lay down to hug you." Danny laughed, full in her chest, and Laura smiled at the comfort of her heartbeat against her ear. She pulled back.

 

"Oh, shut up, werewolf. You'll never believe who's here-"

 

"Is that Laura Hollis I hear, in mine own dorm room?" A smile walked through the door, followed by Perry.

 

"Susan! My dad asked about you like, fifteen times. I told him that you were in the Himalayas studying the effects of high altitude on different brands of soda to get him off of my back. Guess what he said. He literally smiled and went, 'Oh, good for her! It's good that she's following her passions, whatever they are.' He would believe that about you, but he didn't believe me when I said Danny was taking a break from sports." she turned to Danny, unpacking her suitcase. "He knows you _so_ well." Susan laughed, blushing.

 

"What can I say? Drinking soda in high altitudes just _really_ gets me going." Laura turned to Perry.

 

"How'd you swing getting us all in the same room?" 

 

"Are you kidding?" Susan laughed, "She's the epitome of Catholic. Staff loves her." Perry smiled.

 

"But the younglings are terrified of me."

 

"I'd be terrified of someone who slaps the sin clean off of my face too." Perry rolled her eyes, nudging Susan with her shoulder.

 

"I _do not_ hit my kids." 

 

"Alright, Mama Bear." Laura laughed, her chest light. It was good to be back. Danny turned to her.

 

"What were you saying earlier?"

 

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah, dude, guess who's here."

* * *

  
_Yes_ , she thought. _It just makes sense._

The bell for lunch had rung a few minutes before, and she was walking slowly towards the mess hall.

 

And it did make sense.

But she was alone then, and it's always easier to choose solitude when you're alone.

 

Before she turned down the hallway for Mess, she heard the music of a crowd. Closing her eyes, she imagined it a song:  
The bass of a hundred conversations, the sharp, staccato laughter and sporadic shouts. But there was no beat. It was more of a cacophony.

She turned around, towards the crowd. It was the door.

The really big door. 

It was open.

 

It was a large room; a cavernous sort of thing with the air of a church, but full of long tables and human heat. At the far end of the room, there was a small, marbled stage of sorts with an elegant table front and center. The Headmaster was in the middle.  
Deputy Anne sat at his left, but Carmilla didn't recognize anyone else. She thought of a courtroom. A panel of strangers deciding your fate. She had always liked that concept. 

 

The tables were mostly half full. Groups of girls sat in clusters. First, the core it all, were friends. They were surrounded by friends of friends, some listening in to the core conversation and others speaking amongst themselves. There were satellites of acquaintances. A few girls sat alone, in between the planets, free-floating debris, quiet. Plates of glorious foods adorned all of the tables, but they were untouched.

 

_It just makes sense._

_Really, I wouldn't be good for her._

_No good,_ but even as she thought it, the idea hurt her. 

_I couldn't- I won't do that to her._

 

She was being pulled, a strong hand on her sweater sleeve.

 

Laura Hollis deserved better.

 

Voices got louder and surrounded Carmilla. She was sat down at the end of one of the tables.

 

It was decided. 

She would have nothing to do with-

 

"Carmilla, okay, so this is Susan LaFontaine," Laura gestured to a girl with bright red hair, messy and past her shoulders, and a mischievous glint in her eye. Carmilla smiled slightly at her.

 

"And _this_ is Lola Perry, we call her Perry, she's basically the ambassador of Third Form to staff. She has _loads_ of kids,-"

 

"They are _not_ my children!" Perry turned to Carmilla. "I simply keep the Lowers out of trouble." Susan smiled. 

 

"Yeah, so, they're her kids and she loves them dearly-" Perry nudged Susan and let out an exasperated sigh, hiding a smile. Laura and the other tall redhead laughed.

 

Laura looked at Carmilla, across the table. 

Her smile- she felt warm. Her eyes reminded Carmilla of before, years and years before, of a New Year's Eve spent with her entire family. Oma handed out sparklers to all of the kids, and though they were all about six, they lit them by themselves and stood on the roof of their apartment building, stuck in a wondrous trance. Carmilla thought she was holding a star.

 

She clenched her fists on her thighs to stop herself from reaching out to her.

(With her hands, anyway.)

She hadn't noticed until their feet met; instinctively, she touched her calf to the Laura's.  
Laura smiled again, her cheeks flushed a soft pink that made Carmilla want to-

 

"And _this_ ," she turns to the tall redhead beside her, "is Danielle Lawrence." 

Carmilla tensed, a knee-jerk reaction to hearing the name. As Danny huffed about her name and Susan laughed and laughed, Laura brushed her calf against Carmilla's reassuringly, looking up into stormy eyes.

 

_Why..?_

 

Carmilla sat up, pulling her feet back, adjusting her posture the way she would when her mother came home. She looked at Danny.

 

"I hear you met a Karnstein and thought she was a bitch," she said, casually. Susan _oooh_ 'd while Perry looked anxiously at Laura. Danny nodded, her gaze steady.

 

"You met my mother, and you were absolutely right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my life! and get chapters out faster :P  
> thank you for all the kind words, I love yall

**Author's Note:**

> Carmilla Catholic Boarding School AU. Yup.  
> Comments make my day!
> 
> As of right now, there's no schedule for this and I doubt there will be, but I will probably end up posting a chapter every week at least.
> 
> Cheers!


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